Epiphany No. 27
Another EUREKA moment for me. A chatmate was insisting on her obviously warped view of love and relationship. I try to be as polite as possible, while pointing out how infantile her perspective was. All the time I'm thinking to myself, "you're over 30, with no stable relationship, and no prospects in site... and you're lecturing me on the fine points of love and relationship???"
Then it dawned on me... I'm fast approaching 40, my business track record is simply horrible, and my net worth is zero. And I'm an aspiring business tycoon. Right.
The lesson here? You can't sell what you don't own. What right, what mandate do I have to write about succeeding in business? I can't even get the darned thing right!
THE ACTION PLAN:
Walk the walk, so you can talk the talk.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
A little story...
There were two moths fluttering happily together. One of them saw a flame shining brightly in the distance.
"Let's go closer and have a look," said one of the moths, the boy.
"Are you sure?" asked the girl moth, "It looks dangerous."
"I'm sure it will be fine," insisted the boy moth. And the two moths flapped closer to the brightly burning flame.
"Oh, how beautiful!" cried the little bugs as they flew closer to the flame.
"Don't you just love how warm it makes you feel?" asked the boy moth. "Let's move in closer," he invited.
"But won't we be too close to the flame?" protested the girl moth.
"We'll be fine," the boy moth assured her. "We'll feel nice and warm inside."
So the moths flew in closer still to the burning flame. At first they were very cautious, flying in wide arches around the dancing fire.
"Oh, how lovely the flames look," gushed the girl moth. "And such warmth. I want to dance around the flame!"
"Yes, let's dance around the flame!"
And with reckless abandon, the moths cavorted around the tongues of fire, flying in graceful pirrouettes, celebrating their freedom in daring sommersaults.
The girl moth was drunk with passion, and seduced by the warmth of the flames beside her, she believed she and the fire were one... wistful, sensuous, and invincible. And the boy moth, caught up in the throes of his own pleasure, simply watched, hypnotized as the girl moth fluttered ever closer to the fire.
Then it happened. The girl moth's wing brushed lightly against the bright burning pillar. And the girl moth exploded into a bright beautiful fireball. In the silence of an instant, she was gone, all of her, even her scream consumed by the beauty she had embraced.
The boy moth watched in enthralled silence. Then he fluttered away, alone in the darkness.
There were two moths fluttering happily together. One of them saw a flame shining brightly in the distance.
"Let's go closer and have a look," said one of the moths, the boy.
"Are you sure?" asked the girl moth, "It looks dangerous."
"I'm sure it will be fine," insisted the boy moth. And the two moths flapped closer to the brightly burning flame.
"Oh, how beautiful!" cried the little bugs as they flew closer to the flame.
"Don't you just love how warm it makes you feel?" asked the boy moth. "Let's move in closer," he invited.
"But won't we be too close to the flame?" protested the girl moth.
"We'll be fine," the boy moth assured her. "We'll feel nice and warm inside."
So the moths flew in closer still to the burning flame. At first they were very cautious, flying in wide arches around the dancing fire.
"Oh, how lovely the flames look," gushed the girl moth. "And such warmth. I want to dance around the flame!"
"Yes, let's dance around the flame!"
And with reckless abandon, the moths cavorted around the tongues of fire, flying in graceful pirrouettes, celebrating their freedom in daring sommersaults.
The girl moth was drunk with passion, and seduced by the warmth of the flames beside her, she believed she and the fire were one... wistful, sensuous, and invincible. And the boy moth, caught up in the throes of his own pleasure, simply watched, hypnotized as the girl moth fluttered ever closer to the fire.
Then it happened. The girl moth's wing brushed lightly against the bright burning pillar. And the girl moth exploded into a bright beautiful fireball. In the silence of an instant, she was gone, all of her, even her scream consumed by the beauty she had embraced.
The boy moth watched in enthralled silence. Then he fluttered away, alone in the darkness.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
"I want a new drug..." -- Huey Lewis and the News
Caffeine just doesn't seem to do it for me anymore. I just finished up the last few shreds of that precious Italian coffee I lugged back all the way from Casirate, provinzia di Bergamo. That was marvelous coffee, what the experience of drinking coffee ought to be. Never mind that it was decaf. I will be hard-pressed to find anything from the local supply that can equal the aroma, the flavor, and the spirit of that coffee. Starbucks? PFFFFFT!!!! I don't even know why I return to that place again and again. Their daily brew tastes terrible, like burned rubber. Forget the espressos... the horror of sipping a Starbucks espresso is just so indescribable! The frapuccinos are tolerable, but beneath all that froth lurks a chemical cocktail of food coloring, artificial flavors, and a sackful of sugar. And they serve all this garbage in huge cups, as if trying to get you to puke on their shit so you'll know better than to come back.
"I love the java jive and it loves me..." -- the Manhattan Transfer
I'm not that much of a coffee drinker. But I've arrived at where I can tell good coffee from bad coffee. Speaking of coffee, this Java thing has just got me stumped, and good! When I picked up Microsoft's Visual Basic, it took me all of three days to get the drift and become productive. I was churning out itsy-bitsy little programs. After a month I was generating gargantuan, full-scale enterprise applications.
But if Visual Basic were a woman, she'd be a bitch, and a real whimsical one at that. Pretty, and reliable most times, but not quite there when the going gets tough. Like Monica Lewinsky. I'd been hearing a lot about Java. If I were to believe all that's written about it, and if Java were a woman, she'd be a reliable toughie. Like a Demi Moore, maybe, or a Hilary Swank.
So I did what any I.T. person in need would do -- I dove right into the murky waters of Sumatra, and took a go at Java. It's been three weeks now. And I still don't know what the heck I'm doing. I mean, I have a general idea of how the danged thing works, and I can follow the programming logic. But I just can't seem to get enough of a grip on the entire system. I still haven't gotten my little test programs to work! Oh, well...
"If at first you don't succeed -- SUCK AGAIN!" -- Los Tres Pogis de Anos
Caffeine just doesn't seem to do it for me anymore. I just finished up the last few shreds of that precious Italian coffee I lugged back all the way from Casirate, provinzia di Bergamo. That was marvelous coffee, what the experience of drinking coffee ought to be. Never mind that it was decaf. I will be hard-pressed to find anything from the local supply that can equal the aroma, the flavor, and the spirit of that coffee. Starbucks? PFFFFFT!!!! I don't even know why I return to that place again and again. Their daily brew tastes terrible, like burned rubber. Forget the espressos... the horror of sipping a Starbucks espresso is just so indescribable! The frapuccinos are tolerable, but beneath all that froth lurks a chemical cocktail of food coloring, artificial flavors, and a sackful of sugar. And they serve all this garbage in huge cups, as if trying to get you to puke on their shit so you'll know better than to come back.
"I love the java jive and it loves me..." -- the Manhattan Transfer
I'm not that much of a coffee drinker. But I've arrived at where I can tell good coffee from bad coffee. Speaking of coffee, this Java thing has just got me stumped, and good! When I picked up Microsoft's Visual Basic, it took me all of three days to get the drift and become productive. I was churning out itsy-bitsy little programs. After a month I was generating gargantuan, full-scale enterprise applications.
But if Visual Basic were a woman, she'd be a bitch, and a real whimsical one at that. Pretty, and reliable most times, but not quite there when the going gets tough. Like Monica Lewinsky. I'd been hearing a lot about Java. If I were to believe all that's written about it, and if Java were a woman, she'd be a reliable toughie. Like a Demi Moore, maybe, or a Hilary Swank.
So I did what any I.T. person in need would do -- I dove right into the murky waters of Sumatra, and took a go at Java. It's been three weeks now. And I still don't know what the heck I'm doing. I mean, I have a general idea of how the danged thing works, and I can follow the programming logic. But I just can't seem to get enough of a grip on the entire system. I still haven't gotten my little test programs to work! Oh, well...
"If at first you don't succeed -- SUCK AGAIN!" -- Los Tres Pogis de Anos
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